Resident Evil V
by Vogue Dirge
Summary: Chris Redfield and his new partner, Sheva Alomar, are summoned to Africa to assess a possible biohazard. There they will learn of the evil that has tainted the country, a horrifying plan, and the forces at work who are pulling all the strings.
1. Prologue: The Beginning of a Partnership

_**Author's Note:**__ I have never, in the history of my fan fiction writing, attempted to do a novelization of a Resident Evil game. Well, now the tides have changed. I've decided to break free from the path of writing just about Ada Wong and Leon Kennedy, and to explore the other aspects of the RE fandom. So I really hope you enjoy this novelization of Resident Evil 5, I know I will!_

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**RESIDENT EVIL 5**

_By: Vogue Dirge_

**Prologue - The Beginning of a Partnership**

"Ms. Gionne?"

"Yes?"

"Albert Wesker is here to see you."

A pair of jade green eyes looked suddenly up from a glowing computer screen.

"Ah. Perfect." The words tumbled from a pair of full lips like a purr.

Excella Gionne stood up from a large glass desk, upon it only sat a sleek metallic laptop, an expensive looking cell phone, and a half drunken glass of champagne. Behind her was a large floor to ceiling window that looked out at a burning blue ocean and large granite rocks the color of flesh.

Excella Gionne walked around the side of the table, an impressive sight, looking like a Greek goddess in a corseted dress of silk. Her skin was a light olive color, and her hair a cascading river of dark chocolate.

Everything that Excella was, her look, her demeanor, her voice, could be traced backed to a family of aristocrats. Her blood line was abundant with the rich and powerful, the name Gionne a symbol of royalty. Her history was like a very fine red wine, sophisticated and never touched by tainted hands.

As she walked the heels of her Jimmy Choo shoes clicked against the calico marble. The steps were even and deliberate. Excella walked like a supermodel would down some French runway. Her butler looked away from her, possibly from awe, or fear.

_Too bad Lucius died. I hate having to hire new help. There all so...intolerable._

As Excella left the room she called back to the butler, "Hold all my calls."

"Y-yes mam."

Moments later Excella approached the door to the waiting room where her guest had been taken upon his arrival. Beyond its mahogany wood was the man who had contacted her, Albert Wesker. This man had claimed that he had information that would interest her, that it would move her up in the ranks of TriCell.

_Those bastards..._

Excella reached out, opened the door and slipped into the room.

The first thing she saw was the back of a platinum blonde head. The hair looking to be slicked back in almost a militaristic sort of way. Excella raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued. She moved deeper into the room, finally passing the man and coming into his view. Excella turned around and she smiled at the sight before her.

To say that Albert Wesker was handsome would be like calling the Statue of David 'just a sculpture'. At first sight he was more than that. He had a thin face and high cheek bones; the face was that of a dignified man with secrets of his own. His skin was fair, almost too pale, and his eyes...well they were hidden behind very dark sunglasses.

"Good afternoon Mr. Wesker," she slid gracefully into a chair and crossed her legs, flashing only a bit of her upper thigh. "Welcome to my home."

Excella leaned forward and the edges of her mouth turned up into a seductive smirk.

The accent in her voice seemed to intrigue him and he smirked briefly at her welcoming words.

"A lovely abode, Ms Gionne. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Albert Wesker leant back in his seat, crossed one leg over the other and flashed Excella a moment's smile, before gesturing to the aluminum case propped against his chair.

"Shall we commence with business or would you like to play through all the formalities first?"

Excella's eyes flashed toward the metal case. As she gazed at it her eyes glinted in curiosity. What was in that case? Surely something worth this man's time.

After being contacted by Albert Wesker, Excella had done some research on him, and the result led her to some intriguing information. Apparently the man before her had worked for Umbrella, but not just as any minor character. Albert Wesker had been high up in the company, a head researcher or something to that effect. He had even had contact with the internationally wanted man, Ozwell Spencer, and the ex-Umbrella scientist William Birkin, the creator of the G-Virus.

The odd thing though, at first, was the fact that there was no information on the man passed 1998. This soon changed when TriCell decided to sponsor the Bio-terrorism Security Assessment Alliance, or the BSAA. Excella had accessed their databases and discovered that Albert Wesker was alive and well, and being hunted by the BSAA.

Excella smiled and leaned back in her chair.

"Yes, of course, down to business. After all, that's what we are here for."

Her answer was greeted with yet another smirk and Wesker bent down to grab the metal case. He placed it on the table between them, but left it closed.

"I am sure both of us have done our homework in advance. It will shorten the time needed for past explanations. You might have heard of Ozwell E. Spencer, my former employer. After the incidents linked to the Umbrella Corporation he went into hiding, leaving the company to its own fate."

He stopped, letting the words sink in. This was not news to Excella, so she continued to watch the man contently.

"Other agencies used that moment of vulnerability to seize Umbrella's work and tweak it to their own needs and wishes. As far as my knowledge goes Tricell is in possession of various viruses and agents, both of Umbrella's make and self produced."

Raising an eyebrow, he surveyed Excella. "I have also heard – correct me if I should be wrong – that the current head of your organization has succumbed to an… ill-fated accident, yes? The competition for that newly freed position must be enormous."

Excella smirked. Yes, this was a true statement. The head of TriCell had been in a horrible freeway accident, the limo he had been in torn right in two. Rumor had it, they had found the lower half of his body in the bushes at the side of the highway.

"The case in front of you contains a considerable offer… a joker for your deck of cards if you decide to join the game for Tricell's leadership. Take a look, Ms Gionne. The sight is promising."

Excella chuckled. She liked this Albert Wesker fellow. She admired how forthcoming he was. She could tell that the man in front of her was the kind to always be two steps ahead of the pack, able to control the movement and flow of things. He exuded an obscure sort of power that usually resides in the shadows, unknown to everyone and anyone. There was no doubt that Albert Wesker's poker face was well developed and deadly to succumb to.

Excella's eyes moved once again to the case set in front of her as Wesker offered her to look. A deep desire to rip open the case twinged inside of her for the quickest of moments, but she remained collected.

From what Wesker was hinting at, whatever was in the case could elevate her to a higher power in the company _her own ancestors_ had established.

"Promising? Well that certainly does intrigue me Mr. Wesker."

Excella stood up and walked to the metal case, her arms extending forwards. Her fingertips touched the cold metal and she smiled. With one movement Excella had clicked the locks open and opened it.

Inside was an array of well sorted papers, all separated into marked manila folders, stating what the contents were inside. On top was a shiny metallic hard drive disc, as if it were the cherry on top of a perfectly decadent sundae.

Excella's eyes narrowed as she read the tabs, and then they opened quite suddenly. To say she was delightfully surprised was a gross understatement. She snatched up the hard drive and walked over to a small computer in the corner of the room. Her fingers moved furiously over the keys.

Slowly the windows that were crystal clear and looking out onto a luminous sea were covered and the room was cast into darkness. Then with an electronic whir, a large screen decended from the ceiling and lit up. Adorned on the screen was the TriCell logo.

Excella hurriedly slid the disc into the small computer.

Instantly the files were up on the screen and Excella turned toward the screen, her lips parting in slight awe.

"This is all of Umbrella research on the T and G viruses..."

Excella looked at Wesker, still calmly sitting in his seat.

"Do you know how long TriCell has been looking for this?"

She moved over to the table, her mouth cracking into a smile. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as file upon file popped up onto the screen. There was DNA tests, dates, graphs, charts, research logs, everything Umbrella had kept secret from the world.

When the final file zoomed onto the screen, Excella chuckled with joy.

_Progenitor Virus_

"How did you get all this?"

Excella turned back to Wesker, fixing him with her smoldering gaze.

When finally the Progenitor file flashed up, Wesker leaned back in his seat meeting Excella's astonished gaze with a smile.

"Let that be my worries, Ms Gionne. The files belonged to Umbrella once – if you want them, they belong to you now."

And who could really turn down such an offer? Both of them knew that it was a one-time opportunity. If Excella declined, there would be no second chance to change her mind.

"The hard drive contains vital information on all major viruses, specimen infected with such and collected combat data for the more promising models. The rest are an assortment of files that could be rescued from the Raccoon City incident some years ago. They are exclusives, so you can assume that nobody has seen them yet, apart from the researchers having written them."

He flashed her a smile and gestured to the case on the table.

"Take your time. The last thing I wish for are hurried decisions."

Excella floated back over to the metal case and opened its lid once again. She picked up the first file, the one on the left, and read the tab that disclosed what information it contained.

_T-Virus//Preliminary Tests  
by: James Marcus_

_Specimen: Leeches_

"Its James Marcus's research...TriCell thought these were surely lost." Excella scoffed at the incompetence of some of the higher-ups at TriCell. They did not have the ability to dig further, they only skimmed the surface in hopes of something happening, some kind of breakthrough with the world changing viruses they had retrieved after buying WilPharma.

Excella continued to dig through the files, noticing that they were organized by the date. The earliest Umbrella research was on top and gradually escalated as one got deeper.

This gave Excella an idea...

She suddenly moved away files in a deliberate search for something, the dates flashing by her eyes, rejecting each one that did not give her the satisfaction of what she looked for. After a few seconds Excella realized they weren't here. But there had to be _some_ remnant of his research.

Excella straightened up and looked back at Albert Wesker.

"There's something missing. William Birkin's G research. I thought you two were friends of sorts..."

"Most of William Birkin's personal work was lost during the Raccoon City sterilization. He was very secretive about his project, acquiring research data is no easy task as you might have realized yourself. The reports contained in the case will give you a basic idea of what was going on within the laboratories."

Albert Wesker nodded, Excella's reflection living on the onyx black surface of his sunglasses.

"So, Ms Gionne, what do you think? Are you interested to listen to the other part of my offer? I assure you, it will be worthwhile your time."

"There's more?" Excella's eyes glinted again, even in the darkness of the room.

Excella set down the documents, shoving them back into the metal case. She closed it and flicked the locks shut with one fluid movement. Then she moved quickly back over to the computer and pressed a single button. The screen rose back into the ceiling, followed by the shinning rays of sunset as the window was uncovered. Excella turned back to her guest and walked elegantly back to her seat, sitting back into the chair with the grace of a dancer.

"Go on Mr. Wesker..."

Excella crossed her legs and leaned forward, attentive.

"There is always more," he told her with a smile, leaning back in his seat. "You only have to lean out the window and grab it. Regardless, down to business. What you see here is but a fragment of Umbrella's research. There are samples. Abandoned projects, a multitude of information impossible to contain in a single briefcase."

Here, Wesker paused, his lips cracking as if he was going to say something more, but then closed, probably thinking against it. After a brief moment he continued once again.

"To put it bluntly, Ms Gionne, I'm willing to supply you with all necessary data to ensure your rise within TriCell Pharmaceutical to one of the leading positions."

_I'm willing to supply you with all necessary data to ensure your rise within TriCell Pharmaceutical to one of the leading positions_. It rang in her head as Wesker finished his sentence, echoing across her conscience and poisoning her judgment. This was it, this is what she needed. With the information generously provided by Albert Wesker, Excella could rise up in the company her grandmother had helped establish. It was all within her grasp, set in front of her, the ease of reaching out and catching too good to be true.

Excella smirked and leaned back in her chair, her mind settling into a decision.

"You've made quite a case for yourself. I admire it. But I have one more question for you..."

Her eyes bore deep into his darkened sunglasses, wondering what was perhaps behind them. She imagined irises that were steel blue like a blackened sapphire, whose gaze could stab right through her. Excella shivered at the thought.

"What is catch Mr. Wesker? As you said, there is always more."

A fleeting grin slashed the handsome man's face.

"The catch, yes…" he started, leaning forward just an inch. "There is always one in dealings like this, I fear. However, it is small in comparison to what you gain. Once you have reached a satisfiable position within the company, I will require your indirect assistance. Namely in the form of a fully equipped laboratory, supplies, and most important of all – discreetness."

Excella raised an eyebrow in interest as Albert Wesker continued.

"View it as an unfinished project, if you like. It would be a shame not to complete it and it bears some personal importance to me. If I am successful in my endeavors, you are free to reap the fruits and do whatever you think best with the results."

He readjusted his shades and crossed one leg over the other again, Excella guessing he was waiting for a reply.

Excella bit her lip, looking passed the man dressed in all black that sat across from her. She looked over his incredibly blonde, staring at a white wall. Her mind was weighing it all out, the risks against the gains. To trust this man with a mysterious past and reach a new level of power within the company, was it worth it? Excella smiled again and leaned forward.

_Of course it was worth it_

"We have a deal Albert Wesker."

Excella extended her hand forward towards him, a smile tinged with the desire to rise above on her face. Her eyes were wide and pleased with her decision.

"I can tell this is the beginning of a very...interesting partnership."

There was a moment of silence that hung like a pendulum in the air. Excella was deciding whether to let it swing or not. He watched her eyes, green orbs that concealed what was going on behind them. Excella took some more minutes, before she gracefully leaned forward and extended a hand towards him.

Without yet sealing their deal, Wesker could say that he had succeeded. He bent forward, taking her delicate hand in his and with a firm handshake Excella Gionne had just ranked a few positions higher within TriCell Company, unknowingly setting the stage for his future plans.

While he had managed to keep up well throughout the last few years, William Birkin's sudden demise had caused a lot of problems, especially in connection to the substance Wesker had received from him prior to the Mansion Incident. It needed a lot of research and even more improvement. What was coursing through his veins was by no means finalized or stable and although he had managed to keep it under control ever since the initial infection, neither company he had had access to after Umbrella's fall could supply him with the equipment and information needed to find out more. TriCell as a leading corporation in the field of bioengineering could prove to fill the missing link.

And with Excella Gionne allowing him access to what he needed in the future... Wesker allowed himself to smile as he shook his new partner's hand.

"It shall be a promising partnership, Ms Gionne. That much I can guarantee you."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ There you have it. The prologue to be novelization! I really hope you enjoyed it, and I'm sorry if there were many grammatical/spelling mistakes, I converted this little scene from a role-play that went on between the fabulous author __**Chaed**__ and myself. She played Wesker and I played Excella._

_There is more to come from this story so please stick around, the ride hasn't even started yet. This ominous partnership is just the dark beginning._

_Xx Vogue_


	2. Chapter 1: Welcome To Africa

_When you've acquired a taste for dust,  
The scent of our first rain,  
You're hooked for life on Africa  
And you'll not be right again  
Till you can watch the setting moon  
And hear the jackals bark  
And know that they're around you,  
Waiting in the dark._

_When you long to see the Elephants,  
Or to hear the coucal's song,  
When the moonrise sets your blood on fire,  
You've been away too long.  
It's time to cut the traces loose  
And let you're heart go free  
Beyond that far horizon,  
Where your spirit yearns to be._

_-Africa By: Emily Dibb_

**Chapter I – Welcome To Africa**

The world was engulfed in the harsh stare of the sun, hanging in the pale blue sky above like a glowing medallion. Its rays stretched to sting everything, the light reflecting on the dry land that spread out for miles and miles. Large trees stood peacefully, organized in clumps across the savanna like giant mushrooms. Underneath them were cells of shade, tiny paradises away from the sun's heat. Underneath, one could lay out and escape, the only sounds to bother you would be the wind and the crunch of dry brush as a herd of gazelle moved by, and of course, the sandstone colored Hummer that was speeding down the only road for miles, kicking up a storm of dust behind it.

Chris Redfield sighed, his eyes moving over the landscape. This was the perfect picture of Africa, dry as a bone, and scarce of humanity. He widened his eyes, hidden behind a dark pair of aviator sunglasses, trying to rip the feeling of fatigue from them, fatigue acquired over a long airplane ride from Washington DC. HQ had called him just last week, detailing his next mission, when they had told him where it was, Chris had asked them to repeat it. Africa, of all places in the world.

_I should have seen it coming…_

Chris tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying to maintain control of the enormous vehicle as if moved over rough terrain.

_It didn't take long after the fall of the Umbrella Corporation for their bio weapons to end up in the hands of terrorists._

Chris looked slightly to his left, seeing his destination in the distance, blurred by the dancing vision of heat waves.

_A new era of bio-terrorism descended upon vulnerable countries, shifting the balance of power throughout the region. People in the destabilized areas feared another incident like Raccoon City was inevitable._

And here it was, Kijuju, rising like a castle in the middle of the savanna. Except this castle was not made with stone, or even marble, but with old wood, sheets of scrap metal, and graffitied cement. Needless to say, Kijuju was the picture of Africa's poverty struggle, the perfect place to attack with bio weaponry, a region whose government is unstable, and whose populous is desperate for food, water, shelter, and money.

Chris turned the wheel sharply, entering the crowded town streets, alive with the town's inhabitants. Women wrapped in dyed cloth carried baskets of fruit on their heads, moving here and there. Men dressed his ragged clothes stood together in alley ways and on street corners, crowded around beat up old radios or playing card games. As Chris drove further into town he spotted what looked to be a marketplace, thriving with locals. The stands were decorated with piles of various native fruit and what is that? Chris narrowed his eyes, trying to make out whatever was on the last table. Chris shrank back into his seat when he realized what exactly it was, a butchered goat, complete with knife sticking out of its neck. That's priceless. Then again, Chris shouldn't judge, food was food. The market passed, and Chris turned a sharp right, going deeper into Kijuju.

_As panic spread, governments of the world turned to the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium, which formed the anti-terrorism unit BSAA._

Chris glanced at the GPS on his dashboard. He was getting closer to the location. He took another moment to glance out the window, not thinking twice as every face he passed was staring at him, a malicious glare in their eyes. Chris guessed they weren't used to very many outsiders.

_Operatives of the BSAA were sent to infiltrate and neutralize bioterrorist hotspots, restoring safety and stability to various regions around the globe._

The Hummer pulled over to the side of the narrow dirt road, parking in front of a shack with tin roof. Inside was a mother holding a baby, she was staring at Chris, and the look she gave him made him freeze for a moment. The look was pleading, desperate wanting, as if she was a prisoner begging to be released from her cell. Chris blinked, and then looked away, opening up the door to the Hummer and stepping out.

Without a moment's hesitation, the sun blasted him with dagger like rays of sun, and even behind his tinted sunglasses, he had to narrow his eyes from the brightness of the unforgiving shine.

Chris turned and moved to the back door, opening it to reveal a metal case that contained his computer. He slipped off his sunglasses and sighed, unlocking its hinges and opening it up. But before he could reach his hand over and press the power button a voice startled him from behind.

"Welcome to Africa."

Chris turned suddenly, a little caught off guard. His eyes immediately fell on a woman, standing very close to him. He was surprised at her beauty, at her soft brown eyes and her caramel colored skin. He took her in, her purple tank top and off-white pants. She was obviously very young, his briefing had said she was only twenty-three, but he didn't imagine someone who looked like this. This woman looked like someone his sister, Claire Redfield, would have babysat. When she saw him and his surprised look she gave a weak smile, obviously used to this sort of shock.

"My name is Sheva Alomar," she said, her voice carrying a unique accent. Chris guessed she must have grown up in British South Africa.

When Sheva offered him her hand to shake Chris smiled and took it, "Chris Redfield."

"Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Redfield. It's an honor."

Chris gave her a smirk, slightly embarrassed by her words. An honor? She was making him out to be some kind of Head of State, or a commanding officer. Truth was, Chris was just another agent. Sure, he had more experience then any of the others, after all, he had actually seen the start of all this. Chris has witnessed the birth of bio weaponry in Spencer's estate, and the potential of it all in Antarctica, and then again in Russia. To Sheva, it must be an honor to be working with a man whose resume is so…colorful, but to Chris, this was just another job.

"Just Chris, thanks." With that he let go of her hand. "So you'll be accompanying me to the destination?"

Sheva nodded. " Yes. Tensions are running high ever since the change in government."

"I'll bet. Intel says it's a haven for terrorists now." Chris looked passed Sheva, watching the villagers as they went about there day. He knew that just a few blocks away was the hot spot for these scum bags who were ignorant to the consequences of playing with fire. Chris looked back at Sheva, his brow slightly furrowed.

"And they're not going to be happy to see an American. BSAA or not. That's why I'm your partner; help put them at ease." Sheva smiled up at him.

Chris returned the smiled and nodded. "Well, I'm sure you'll do just fine…"

Sheva smirked and turned away, an obvious clue for him to follow.

Chris looked at the ground, his eyes squinting against the flood of memories. That word. Partner,

"Partner…"

A flash of a gravestone, the words _Jill Valentine_ carved into the cold gray stone. The gravestone is sitting on bright green grass and the sun is shinning down on the stone, making it gleam in its light. The vision is beautiful, but the conditions are horrifying. Jill. Why Jill? An old partner lost, but not just a partner, Jill Valentine was a friend…she was a—

"You OK?"

The gravestone evaporated from his memory, the sight of Sheva's youthful face painted with a worried expression taking its place. Chris felt foolish for letting himself slip into old memories, into old regrets. He couldn't let himself go back into that world of mourning. Should have. Would have. Could have. It was poison.

"Yeah sorry…It's nothing. Let's go."

As Chris walked forward, a weak smile forced onto his handsome face, Sheva surveyed him for a brief second and the nodded, turning as he caught up with her.

They walked along a narrow street, dilapidated and crumbling buildings surrounding them. They walked among the locals, each one eyeing them suspiciously, especially Chris. Chris watched them back, taking in their curious and ominous stares. They _really_ must not be used to having visitors. He couldn't blame them. Something was happening in their village, powers were shifting and threats were being made. All around them was a life he had never had or witnessed first hand.

_Casualties continue to mount over the long years I've struggled._

Beyond a distant fence a group of teenagers in faded and dirt clothes kicked around an almost deflated soccer ball, they're voices echoing in the street. Littering the street were bushes of weeds and scraps of garbage. Every now and then there would what's left of a car or truck, usually just the inner frame; everything else has been stripped off. The metal to build more shelter, and the parts most likely sold off for money.

_More and more I find myself wondering if it's all worth fighting for._

They start to approach the barricade; beyond it is the location Chris had asked about earlier. It's a massive steel wall with barbed wire on the top, mainly to keep people from coming out, than preventing people from going in.

_Maybe one day I'll find out._

Suddenly, from the left, came a man, also a local, but this time he was in cameo fatigues, his shirt open to reveal a lean and muscular chest, an AK-47 was slung over his back. The man must be a soldier in the village's army. He was speaking in the local language, quickly and persistently. He was holding his hands up, with his gun now in his hands, and blocking them from going any further. It was clear to Chris that this guy wasn't playing around. Sheva turned back, signaling Chris to stay back. Chris obliged, watching the scene with a weary eye.

The man began to search Sheva, starting at the shoulders and suddenly moving to her butt. Chris watched as the man got a full handful of Sheva. His eyes widened. The man wasn't looking for any weapons, that was for sure. Sheva shoved the soldier's hands and arms away, glaring up into his face.

"You don't have to get touchy," Sheva snapped at him. They looked at each other for a few moments and then Sheva raised a fist full of paper bills.

Ah, so money really does speak volumes around here.

Sheva turned back to Chris, "Let's go."

Chris nodded and followed as Sheva moved around the soldier. As he passed the man glared at them both, still holding the wad of cash in his hand. Chris glared back, his eyes flashing.

_There is one thing I do know…_

Sheva and Chris walked up to the barred barricade door, taking in the beat up metal. Beyond this was his mission. Who knows what was in store past this gate? Chris had stopped pretending to know what the future may hold. There were too many times in his life that something came in and fucked it all up.

_I have a job to do, and I'm going to see it through._

The gates creaked open as the soldier still watched them from his post. Chris took a deep breath and walked forward, Sheva at his side. Together they entered the unknown, and they were partners in it.

Chris knew this. They were partners.

* * *

_A light above flickers. Fluorescent. The only light that penetrates this dark and damp room. The walls are filthy with water and mold. This room is cold and cruel. Yet just to the right is the muffled sunlight, a good among all this evil._

_It stands above me, watching me. It's dressed in all black, but Its eyes are fiery red, red like a ruby, like blood. It watches me with those unforgiving, unblinking red eyes. It did this to me. So much pain that needle caused. I feel something moving, within me, within my core. It hurts. The pain. Its moving inside me. Writhing like some kind of snake._

_I hear clicking. It's moving, around me, a jackal stalking a dying gazelle. It's watching me. Waiting for something, but what?_

_The pain increases within me. Whatever is causing this pain is moving. Spreading like fire in my chest. I want it out. I want this to be over. The fire consumes my legs, my arms, working its way up into my neck. The pain! Make it stop, make it stop!_

_I lunge out grabbing hold of its arms, my eyes are opened wide. I try to speak but my words are broken into whimpers of pain. I look up into Its hooded face. Please help me. Those red eyes look back, and I swear they belong to some kind of devil. My vision is blurring, everything growing softer, first around the edges, but then everything is consumed. Except those eyes. Those terrible eyes._

_Suddenly It pulls It's arm from my hand and my arm hits the floor. I bend over heaving. It is moving again, up my throat. I feel as if I'm choking. Can't breathe. Then something slips from my mouth and it tastes like acid. Something slick and smooth, wiggling around like a beheaded snake._

_Then It is walking away. I hear It's footsteps moving farther. I want to call out. But this pain is increasing._

_I am being consumed by this pain. It is wiggling and crawling all over my skin. I fall to the floor and reach a hand forward, trying to yell for help._

_But then everything that is blurred fades to black. I am slipping away._

_So. Much. Pain._

_

* * *

  
_

Sheva blinked as the metal door shuts behind them, taking in the scene before them. This was a less dense section of the village, not as many buildings as the section they had just left. Almost all the buildings were one level, and it looked like there were more stores, rather than homes.

_If you could even call them homes. More like prisons._

Sheva glanced at Chris who was putting on his earpiece that connected to the BSAA radios hey had. It really was an honor to be working with Chris Redfield. She had heard so much about him, so much about his past. The man before her had really seen what bio weapons, and the people who controlled them, could do. For this, she had deep respect for the man.

"This is Kirk. Chris, Sheva, can you read me?" Her ear piece sprang to life.

"Chris here, coming in loud and clear Kirk." Chris replied, nodding at Sheva.

He started to walk up the new dirt road, moving in to walk among the various locals. Sheva followed, keeping a close eye on her surroundings. "Yes, we read you." Sheva answered.

"There's a black market weapons deal going down in Kijuju. That's where Irving will be."

Sheva's eyes narrowed. Irving. The reason why the both of them were here. Intel suggested that he was the terrorist dealing bio weapons within the town. Further investigations reported that this was indeed true, and he could possibly be linked to the mysterious disappearances Kijuju has been experiencing. An agent who had been stationed in Kijuju near the beginning of the investigation reported that villagers had started acting hostile towards outsiders, and since then people had gone missing. Reports of riots and public executions had risen since the start of all this. According to reports there was a man leading these public displays. No name was able to be given, but every description noted that the man was always wearing tinted sunglasses.

"Alpha team has already infiltrated the area and you will be going in as back up. Rendezvous with your contact at the butcher's shop. You can gear up and get briefed on the mission there. Watch your backs!"

Chris smirked and Sheva chuckled.

"Roger that." Her partner said, in the same tone one would say _amen_.

Sheva nodded, "Copy, over and out."

As they approached a form in the road something caught Sheva's eyes, directly ahead of them. She narrowed her eyes as they grew closer, Chris faltering in his progress as he too took in the sight before them. Sheva didn't exactly know what to make of it; the sight was just so…grotesque. A crowd was formed around something in a burlap sack, writhing and flailing around in the dirt. Two men were beating the bag with sticks, each time they brought them down a wet _thunk_ followed. The burlap bag was stained with blood, and even when the villagers stopped, realizing that Chris and Sheva were watching, the bag still tossed around, except the flails were getting weaker and weaker. Whatever was in the bag was dying a slow and painful death.

Chris turned to Sheva but she shook her head, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward. Each and every villager stared daggers at them as Sheva pulled them both past the scene. Sheva kept her vision low, not wanting to look anyone in the eye. Chris leaned in close to Sheva.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" his whisper was hurried and disgusted.

"I have no idea, and I don't want to ask." Sheva replied, taking the chance to sneak a glance over her shoulder. They were still watching them.

"I hope that…thing in the bag wasn't a person." Chris said, glancing over his shoulder for the briefest of moments. "They're starting to walk away. Did you see the way they looked at us?"

"Yes, and even if it wasn't a person, that's still absolutely horrible." Sheva replied hurriedly. "Look, there's the butcher shop, just up ahead." Sheva pointed down the street.

The butcher shop was a sandstone covered building, very plain looking. The sign above it read _Corner Pyamy Butcher_. That was where they were to meet there contact, Reynard Fisher, a man who had disguised himself to blend in with the locals, arriving a few weeks before the initial infiltration team. Reynard was one of the first, along with Chris to be drafted into the BSAA. Sheva didn't know much about him, just that he was used to this sort of thing, blending in with other people, after being a spy for American government during the reign of the Soviet Union.

As they walked Sheva was overcome by an odd feeling of emptiness that sent shivers down her spine. Something didn't feel right, something was amiss. She stopped, her ears picking up the sound of a seemingly muffled voice, thick with static. Her eyes narrowed and shifted. Chris stopped ahead of her, looking back with a worried look on his. Then he looked beyond her, eyes squinting against the sun, his features arranged in a manner that gave of confusion. Sheva turned around, taking in the street all at once.

It was empty. No sign of life. No stray cats or livestock. No locals. No nothing. The street they had just walked through that had been scattered with villagers was now empty, turned into a dusty ghost town. Sheva's eyes searched, looking in every store, under every makeshift roof's shade. Even the place where the group of villagers had been beating that bloody sack was gone, their victim with them. All that remained were groups of buzzing flies, pieces of garbage, and the wind.

Sheva looked back at Chris, who shrugged his shoulders, a silent response to her silent question. How could an entire street of people just…disappear? The fact that everyone had just vanished was not what disturbed Sheva the most, it was that neither of them, Chris nor herself, has heard them go. It was as if they were just phantoms, there one moment and gone the next.

"C'mon, let's not keep Fisher waiting." Chris turned and walked toward the shop, his movement slower and a bit more cautious.

Sheva looked back at the street once more and followed, the silence ringing in her ears.

"Sheva!" Chris called. She turned back to see Chris near the side of the building. "The doors over here."

Sheva took the hint and hustled over, kicking up dust as she went. Chris was smiling as she approached, but then turned and walked down the side of the building, eventually reaching a blue metal door. He opened it and slipped in, Sheva following right beside him.

It took a moment for her eyes to get adjusted to the sudden darkness, but she could still see the form of a man, leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed lazily. He was dressed in faded green and white cotton, a dirty turban wrapped around his head and face, only revealing his cold blue eyes which watched them both carefully. The effect made him look quite intimidating, almost like some kind of Bond villain. Sheva blinked as she shuffled into the cold room, shutting the door behind her.

"Good. You're both here. Come." Reynard motioned to the door behind him and turned, opening it with a squeal of metal hinges. "You two, this way." He said, standing in the doorway.

As soon as Sheva stepped inside she fought to control herself from gagging. The smell of rancid meat and dried blood filled her lungs and stung her eyes. She looked around the damp location, taking in all the knives that were still wet with blood, and the cut up carcasses of various stock animals. It was like stepping into the lair of some B-rated horror movie villain. Sheva half expected to see a whimpering teenager in a dog kennel, or a family of inbred mutants feasting on human flesh.

_Whoa now, Sheva. Don't let your imagination run wild. Just keep your cool, this guy is on you're side, remember?_

Sheva glanced back at Chris, who looked unfazed by the scene. Sheva should have known. Knowing Chris Redfield's resume, he'd probably seen very much worse.

"It may be because of the new government," Reynard spoke suddenly, moving through his rancid meat lair, "but people around here are a little on edge." He turned to look at them both, his full face now unhidden by a strip of cloth. It was rugged and aged, with deep set eyes and a prominent nose. "You should do what you came here to do and go home."

Chris chuckled. "Yeah, they really roll out the red carpet for us Americans." He looked at Sheva, knowing she'd at least appreciate the joke. Sheva responded with a coy smile but kept walking, following the disguised agent to a nearby table.

"I have your weapons for you here. Check them."

Chris and Sheva both walked over to a massive metallic case, not unlike ones used to carry sound equipment. Chris reached out and opened it, revealing two handguns, ten clips (five for each of them), both a bullet and melee vests, along with the gear to hold everything. . Chris smiled and picked up his set, slinging it over his back and slipping both arms through. Sheathed to his back was an enormous combat knife that looked as if it had scene battle many times. Sheva looked back into the case and snatched up her equipment as well.

It took a few moments for them to get everything equipped, but it was when they were both checking and loading there handguns, did Sheva start to speak again, slipping a clip into her gun. "Destination coordinates?"

He looked at her, his face stoic, eyes narrowed slightly. "Town square's up ahead. Go through there," he jerked his head toward the back door. "Alpha team's waiting at the deal location."

Sheva slipped her gun into his holster. "Good."

The agent looked at them both and then lowered his voice, his eyes glinting. Sheva watched him as he crept forward, wanting to get closer to them. "What do you know about Uroboros?"

Chris looked up suddenly, his brow furrowed as he stared at Reynard. He didn't speak for a moment, the air that wafted around him thick with tension at the name mentioned. Sheva blinked, not having heard the word before. Whatever it was, it didn't sound pleasant.

"Mostly just rumors…" Chris spoke, looking a bit disgusted. "Something about visions of a doomsday project." Chris turned slightly to face Reynard, his eyes still flashing with concern. This attitude change in Chris disturbed Sheva a bit, but she kept herself collected, listening intently.

_Doomsday?_

"Doomsday sounds about right, and apparently it is no rumor."

"You're kidding, right?" Sheva interrupted, both men looking at her.

"You must find a man named Irving, he's out only lead."

Suddenly Reynard crossed the room, and it was only then did Sheva notice that he walked with a slight limp. His speed indicated nervousness, tension, perhaps slight fear. If all this talk was true, that this Uroboros project wasn't just a mere rumor, what did that mean for the mission? And even more concerning, what _exactly_ was Uroboros, some kind of bio weapon?

He turned back, just as he reached the door they had came in from. "And be careful out there." His tone was ominous.

Chris and Sheva both looked at each other, not knowing what to make of the man's cryptic farewell.

* * *

_There is a live one. Not like us, but one of us. We saw him, running from the square, away from our brothers. He will acclimate, or die for his treachery. We have been cleansing this land of outsiders, and he will help us._

_All outsiders will receive the blade of punishment._

_We will bless them with a sacred death._

_We will release them from their bonds of wickedness._

_That is what our leader has told us. Must burn inside out brains. We must take back this land. Our land. From those filthy outsiders._

_He has run into a nearby building. Jumped through the broken window._

_We chase him. He will not get away._

_When we enter this building we do not see him. He is hiding. I sense him. We sense him. Something above makes noise. I smile. We smile. Swiftly we move. Quickly running up the stairs._

_We find him hiding in a closet. Stupid. We always find those who are not one of us. I speak to him. Tell him of the cause. _

_All outsiders will receive the blade of punishment._

_We will bless them with a sacred death._

_We will release them from their bonds of wickedness._

_My brother throws him to the floor. I sit on top of him. I open my mouth. I extract the seed. It writhes in my hand. Tentacles flopping around. This is how we change him._

_He screams. We laugh._

_It is time._

_

* * *

  
_

"Did you hear that?"

Chris paused, the echo of the scream still in his ears. His eyes narrow as he looks around for the source. It was a muffled call, probably from somewhere inside.

"It came from that building!" Sheva sprang into a jog, moving quickly down a small dirt path leading up to a set of stairs.

Chris followed her, going up the steps two at a time. Sheva was standing by an old rusty blue door, her gun drawn and her face set. Chris also raised his gun, holding it up and moving closer to the door. They both paused outside the door, straining their ears to hear what might be going on inside. When he could hear nothing, Chris reached out and grabbed the door's handle. Sheva nodded, indicating she was ready to move it. Internally Chris was impressed, her demeanor and calm in all of this was something many agents needed perhaps more of. She was not anxious, scared, or eager to pull the trigger and start shooting. The look in her eyes told Chris she knew what she was doing, and that even at her age, she was professional at all times. They both locked eyes for a second before he pushed the door slowly open, ready for anything.

Guns at the ready, they slipped in, scanning the location, where ever their sight line was, so was the barrel of their weapon. At first it Chris didn't see a thing, but the sounds of struggled grunts made him turn to look at the far left corner of the room. Three figures were on the floor, one pinned to the ground under another and the last bent over, watching as the man on top of the pinned figure shoved something into his mouth. Chris couldn't help but think it looked like a fist full of spaghetti.

Chris glared and stepped forward, pointing his weapon at the one pinning its victim to the ground. The two of them looked up, glaring at both Sheva and Chris. Then as the man on the floor started to sputter, and choke, they both stood up and ran through the nearest door, gone in the blink of an eye. Chris turned his attention to the victim who had now rolled and hunched over, slobber and spit flying from his mouth. The man held a hand to his throat, still making awful choking and growling noises. Chris turned back to Sheva, whose worried expression made Chris step forward.

"Are you OK?" Chris asked, feeling foolish for saying it. That phrase was so inappropriate, yet why was it always the first thing to slip out of your mouth when someone was in visible pain?

_He obviously isn't OK. He's clearly choking on whatever those men shoved down his throat._

When Chris reached out to touch the man's shoulder he was knocked away with a growl. Chris gasped and shuffled backwards, eyes narrowed in confusion.

The man was now on his knees, a low growl of pain or rage coming from behind clenched teeth. He was grabbing at his throat furiously, as if trying to rip something out of it. He flailed around, grabbing at his face and neck, still screaming. Chris wanted to help, he wanted to do _something_, but all he could do was stand back and watch this man suffer. From the corner of his eye he saw Sheva shuffling forward, obviously battling the same urges as him.

And then suddenly the man stopped. He leaned back, still on his knees, head tilted all the way back, and looking up at the sky. His eyes were wide and full of fear, the edges of his mouth stained with slobber and blood. It was then that his eyes started to bulge out, blood leaking out from around the edges. This man was _crying blood_. Chris's mouth dropped and Sheva gasped in horror. Both of hem watched as the man let out a sigh and flopped forward, hanging limply. Slowly and with raspy breath the man got up, and as he did, Chris and Sheva gripped their guns tighter, raising them only slightly, not all the way.

_What the Fu—_

Before Chris could complete this thought the man shot forward, a carnal scream emitting from barred teeth. Chris had no time to react, except to throw his hands up as the man came upon him. Chris grabbed the man's wrists before they could lock around his neck. The two of them were locked in a struggle, slobber and spit flying from the man's mouth, all the while snarling in Chris's face. This was not a man anymore. Its breath smelled putrid, and just as Chris pulled his face away, the man's entire jaw opened up, turning into some kind a mouth, edged with sharp fangs and a dark hole where the opening to the throat should be. Four mandibles flared out from the mouth each thick and fleshy. Chris's eyes wide as the mandibles stretched towards him.

_This thing is trying to eat my god damn face!_

Then from his right Chris saw a blur of motion as Sheva round housed the creature's face. It stumbled back, clutching itself, the sickening mouth melted back into a human visage. Chris raised his gun and fired before it had the chance to recover. Three rounds tore into its neck and torso, and it flew against a wooden shelf, shattering it, then it flopped to the floor motionless. A pool of blood spread out across the cement floor from underneath it. In the aftermath of the attack they both paused, watching the body on the floor twitch.

"What the hell just happened?" Sheva asked, her gun lowered in front of her, still locked tightly in her grip.

"They didn't move like any zombies I've ever seen." Chris glanced at Sheva. Immediately flashes of lurching corpses flood his mind's eyes. Stinking monsters with a taste for warm living flesh. Streets full. Halls full. Mansions full of the living dead, all dealing a slow shuffling danger.

Chris walked across the room towards the door the other two had exited from, kicking it open and sweeping the area with his gun. Nothing. It was empty.

"Where did they go?" Sheva asked, right behind him.

"Don't know. There are no stairs or doors out of here." Chris replied, his eyes scanning the room until they fell on a window near the far corner. It was broken, but no shards of glass were on the inside. Chris pointed, "Looks like they bailed out that window." He swiftly moved across the room, looking down. Sure enough a pile of broken glass lay on the dirt below.

"They could be anywhere. Perhaps looking for us. Let's double back, maybe we can find—"

Without letting Sheva complete her sentence Chris threw himself through the window, front flipping in the air and landing on one knee, more glass fell around him, clinking and sparkling in the sunlight. When he stood up heard the sound of Sheva landing just behind him. He turned, chuckling as Sheva brushed the dirt from her pants. "You take direction well."

Sheva smirked at him as Chris turned back around, taking in their surroundings. They seemed to be in another section of the town, what looked like housing stood all around them. Chris turned left, back onto another dirt path.

"We should keep moving. They'll find us soon."

"Right." Chris replied, drawing his weapon again and hooking a right, passing another little alcove.

But as soon as they moved down the tiny path the sounds of yelling and screaming filled the silent dry air. Chris turned quickly, gun raised, pointing it at a ledge to their left. A whole horde of locals were climbing the fence, others waiting behind them. Most were brandishing makeshift weapons, bottles, clubs, and old sections of pipe. Others were just bare handed. One thing was common however; they all had the same bulging eyes as the man that had attacked Chris.

_Shit, there are more of them. What the hell is happening around here?_

Just as the first wave of villagers jumped down from the fence, now within distance of being threats, more of them came in from the alcove Chris had passed. They were pouring in, calling out and screaming in their language. All of them hostile.

"We need to get out of here!" Sheva called out, pointing her gun at the advancing horde.

Chris hesitated a moment and then turned and ran down the pathway, Sheva right next to him. When they broke away from the path they were in what looked like a common area between a few houses. An abandoned car piled with junk blocked their path onto what looked like a main street.

"We need to get to that house! We'll have a better chance of fighting them from there!" Sheva called out, pointing ahead to an open doorway.

Chris nodded, looking over his shoulder as the crowd got closer. "Alright, let's go!"

The two of them sprinted forward, running as quickly as they could into the home. As soon as they were inside Chris turned and slammed the door shut. There was a piece of wood just behind the door that he used to bar it against the hostile crowd. Already they were banging on the metal, still yelling and screaming in their foreign tongues.

Immediately Chris reached a hand up to his radio, pressing the ear piece and speaking quickly. "Come in, Kirk." It was hard for him to speak; he was a little out of breath, the adrenaline pumping inside him. "The locals were hostile and we had to use force. We don't have any contingency plans for this situation, do we, Kirk?"

"Roger on the locals. But your orders still stand." His radio buzzed into life, the voice of Kirk Macison playing in his ear.

"What does that mean? Was HQ expecting this?" Sheva asked her voice thick with confusion.

But no answer was given to her. The radio was absolutely silent. Chris glanced at Sheva, her eyes cast to the door where those insane villagers stood in a great number, trying to break down the door. Chris sighed and walked over to a barred door that separated this room from the rest of the house. It looked beaten up, as if someone had tried to open it with all their strength. Chris pushed at it but the door didn't budge, so he stepped back a few paces and landed a thrust kick right in the middle. The door shook on its hinges, but did not open. Chris was about to land another kick when Sheva walked up and did it for him. This time the door blew out of its frame, landing on the ground. Chris shot Sheva a look, but she just grinned and walked through.

"It looks like there's only one way out of this place." Sheva said as Chris approached her at the other end of the room. She stood over a massive hole in the ground, the smell of dirt and dripping water wafting from it. Beyond the boarded up windows Chris could still see the shadows and hear the voices of the villagers.

Chris took a deep breath in, walking up to the hole's edge. "I'll take just about anything right now. Ladies first." Chris gestured to the hole.

"How very kind of you." Sheva sneered and jumped down, landing six feet below. "All clear." Her voice echoed up to him.

"Watch it, I'm coming down." Chris said as he leapt down.

He landed on a very slick surface, further investigation revealed it was dirt. When he stood up he could see Sheva had already moved down the tunnel and was standing in front of some kind of light source. Chris squinted and walked forward, his gun up and ready. Sheva was standing in a small circular room, they were still under ground, but there were wooden beams and bit of sheet metal scattered across the walls. A shaft of sunlight broke the darkness in a nearby corner, illuminating two decayed corpses. One was laying a pile of rubbish, and the other hanging from the ceiling.

"I'm guessing this was some kind of prison. People waited down here to be killed," Sheva said, her voice low.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"

Sheva looked at him, "Did you see those massive blades in the room above? They were stained with blood. They definitely weren't using them to cut down trees."

Chris blinked, looking from one corpse to the other.

_What the hell have you gotten yourself into Redfield? Don't you just have the best luck?_

_

* * *

  
_

_I wonder how they are doing. This place has gone completely to hell. I need to get out of here._

Reynard Fisher turned left from the main street that ran through most of Kijuju, into a small alleyway that ran between two three story buildings. All was silent around him and the heat pressed down, beads of sweat running down his brow. It was this damned turban he had been wearing for weeks now. Although it provided him the disguise to blend in with the locals, it was a son of a bitch to deal with in the sun. Sometimes he felt smothered by it. Reynard lifted a hand underneath the cloth, scratching at his unshaven face. He could feel the lumps of mosquito bites that riddled his skin, those bastards. This was the price one paid when you didn't sleep with a net around you.

Reynard stopped near the end of the alley, fishing around his shirt pocket for the pack of cigarettes. Russian cigarettes. The best kind. When he found them he chuckled in brutish delight. He slipped on into his mouth and withdrew a lighter from his pants pocket, then he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag in.

_I've done my job. Redfield and Alomar were briefed on their mission, I got HQ the information they needed, there is no need for me here anymore. The first thing I'm going to do when I leave is take a good long shower. Wipe away the filth of this wicked town._

A mushroom cloud of smoke formed as he expelled his lungful of tobacco, then he started to walk again. The perimeter of the barricade was not too far away, just a few more blocks. It would have been faster to stick to the main road, but it was safest not to be seen, the natives were starting to grow restless.

_I wish I had a god damn radio. Then I could contact HQ and tell them I'm leaving, and if they don't like it, they can screw themselves._

Just as Reynard was about to turn a corner something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. A blur of red. Reynard stopped and looked beyond the nearby fence, up on the second story of one of the buildings. There was a girl, not a local, evidence by her corn flower blonde hair, and pale skin, and she looked to be in deep distress, hiding around the corner of a building. She was sobbing, her face streaked with tears and dirt. Then, before he could call out she had perked up, apparently having heard something, and slipped through a nearby door. Reynard stood thee, watching the spot, but nothing stirred. A bit disturbed by the sight, he kept walking, his pace a bit quicker.

Reynard rounded his intended corner and stopped dead in his tracks. It was a dead end, but not just any dead end, there was someone there. A local. Reynard straightened up, assuming his rough demeanor, the one he had shown the entire time he had been living in this trash heap of a village. But inside Reynard was very worried, for it was not just any villager, which would've been too simple, too easy. It was the man with sunglasses, the one who had been orchestrating all of the public executions. The executions of all the 'outsiders'.

"_What are you doing here butcher?"_ The man spoke, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. _"Or should I call you…Outsider?"_

"_Don't try it. You'll find I'm not as weak as the others."_ Reynard fired back, drawing himself p to his full height.

"_Is that so?"_ The man chuckled taking a step forward. _"Get him!"_

Before Reynard could brace himself a group of villagers had surrounded him, grabbing his arms and body. He tried to fight against them, he tried to rip himself from their blood stained grasps, but the bastards were too strong. They all looked up at him with bulging bloodshot eyes, sneering and snarling. Reynard thrashed against, even though it was no good.

"_Take him to the assembly. And tell the executioner to sharpen his blade."_ The man gave a sick smile as his men dragged Reynard off.

All he could do was thrashed around in vain, and shout curses to the sky.

* * *

When they finally reached the outside two things were absolutely definite: the sun was beating down, hotter than ever, and the air was thick with the sounds of chanting and yelling. Sheva paused, looking at the nearby fence . The sound was coming from just beyond it. It was the sound of a great number of people, and almost riotous. Sheva looked at Chris with a worried expression, seeing he too wore it. She gripped her gun tighter and they continued down the dirt path that winded down to a ledge. They both jumped down, the yelling becoming louder and louder, and entered the three story building directly in front of them. Both of their guns were drawn, ready to take on any immediate threats, but the room was completely empty. Only a beat up wooden table, some crates, an old TV, and a few piles of fruits were present.

Chris turned to Sheva, motioning her to follow, and moved towards a small window. Sheva followed, gun still at the ready.

Beyond the dirty glass was a structure that stood a good two stories tall, made from sheets of wood and steel bars. Atop that structure was a man dressed in brown pants, a black shirt, and sunglasses, holding a microphone up to his mouth. He was speaking to the source of all the yelling and chanting, his voice amplified and echoing across them. He was gesturing wildly, the inflection in his voice passionate and infuriated. Sheva narrowed her eyes as, after one sentence and the next, the crowd cheered. It was as if this was some kind of public assembly. The crowd certainly did look like it could occupy this entire village.

Then out of all the chanting and jeering, a voice rang out. "You don't know what your talking about! You can all go to HELL!"

Sheva gasped. It was Reynard Fisher, the agent who had briefed them on their mission, the man posing as the village butcher. "Wait a minute, that's the…!" She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked over. Chris was looking at her, his eyes answering her question. Sheva let it die, there was no use in continuing it.

Sheva looked back. The man with the microphone was gesturing at a hulking figure dressed in all black. Whatever it was, it couldn't be an actual person, it was too horrifying, too freakish. The figure stood at least seven feet tall, with a black apron, gloves, and hood covering his face. His skin was gray and there were nails sticking out of his flesh all over. It was like a monster from a nightmare, twisted and grotesque. His appearance wasn't even the worse of it, in his giant hands he held the largest axe Sheva had ever seen. The whole scene was slowly coming together before her eyes.

The man in the sunglasses said on final word and nodded at the Executioner. Slowly the creature brought up he axe, and swung it down.

Sheva looked away just as the axe connected with Fisher's neck, just as the crowd roared its twisted approval. So this is what has happened to Kijuju. Sheva looked up and out of the window. The entire crowd was pumping their fists into the air and screaming as the blood trickled down off the highest tier. This was terrible.

Then the man with the sunglasses was back on his megaphone and pointing directly at them. It took a moment for Sheva to realize what exactly was happening, but when Chris started stepping away from the window, she got the clue.

They had been found, and the man was telling the mob about their presence. Immediately all of the villagers turned and ran, their joyous ruckus ceased, replaced hostile yelling. Hordes of them started to run for the gate that closed of the front of the house they were in from the assembly area.

_He's telling them to attack us._

Sheva and Chris both started to move back, raising their guns at the advancing horde. Sheva suddenly felt utterly powerless, the gun in her hand feeling like a mere wooden stick against all of these enemies. But she kept herself collected, ready for the fight ahead. Sheva heard the clinking of chain-link fence at they reached their one and only barrier, the only thing that halted there progress for the briefest of moments.

"Sheva, the shelves!" Chris called out, moving towards one of the two wooden shelves in the house. "Move that shelf in front of the window. It will slow them down. I'll block off the doorway." Within seconds he was already pushing the furniture.

"Roger!" Sheva replied and rushed forward.

The shelf was easier to move than she thought, simply sliding over in front of the window in a couple seconds. By that time a few of them had made it over the fence and were at the window and door already. A crash of glass told Sheva they were already through the window. Sheva stood back, her gun ready to fire, her eyes trained on the shelf in front of her, ready for them to knock it down.

"Fire at the head, we don't want to waste any ammo." Chris was near the window, looking out at the crowd that had gathered near the door.

Then it happened. With snap followed by a bang, the villagers at the window had managed to knock over the shelf, shatter into pieces as it hit the floor. Sheva moved forward and took aim just as the enemy in front raised its leg up to get through. She squeezed the trigger, a round hitting the villager chest. He flew backward, knocking back the crowd around him that was waiting to get it. To her left she could hear Chris also firing off rounds as enemies broke through the door, and even the wet splat of a head being shot off. Sheva flinched and fired into the crowd around the window, killing a couple, and wounding one. These things did not give up easily, even if they were shot in arms or body they would still come forward after stumbling back just a foot or two.

Chris yelled out in frustration as a great number of villagers barged there way in through the door, seven, maybe eight of them.

_Shit!_ Sheva turned firing at the ones that just came in through the door. She managed to kill a couple but they just came flooding in.

"Kirk! Come in! The locals are hostile! The gate is sealed and we're trapped. We need back up, and we need it right now!"

Sheva glanced at Chris as he moved his hand away from his radio, then she turned back, firing at an advancing enemy. A small group was homing in on her, their makeshift weapons raised in the air, murder on their faces. Sheva shot the leg of the closest one and he fell to the floor. Taking this opportunity, Sheva ran forward gaining momentum. As she approached the one on his knees Sheva pulled her leg back and shot it directly at the enemy's head, the force of his breaking its neck and sending the other around him stumbling back. Sheva jogged backward as she recovered from the kick, her gun raised and firing. She let loose three rounds into one of the villagers, knocking him back onto a barrel and then onto the floor.

"Roger that. Just sit tight. I'm on my way!" Sheva's radio burst to life with Kirk's confirmation.

"Did you hear that, Sheva? Help's on the way."

After kicking another villager Sheva unsheathed her knife and stood over him, raising it up and then plunging it into the man's neck. "Got it! Just hope he gets here quick!"

Just then a shower of broken wood and splintering debris erupted down upon them from the ceiling. Shocked, Sheva looked up to see more enemies jumping down from the roof. Chris was already on them, giving the nearest one a hook in the face that sent him flying back into the others, all of them losing their balance. He then opened fire on each as they tried to get up, killing all of them.

_OK, this isn't too bad. We can handle—_

BOOM. The entire side of one wall came collapsing down. Sheva turned swiftly as the air was filled with dust. She covered her mouth with her hand, straining her eyes to see through the cloud, but soon she wished she hadn't. Standing where the wall used to be was the massive form of the Executioner, his giant axe in his hand, walking blindly into the house, pushing away villagers that dared to cross his path.

"Sheva, let's get out of here!" Chris yelled, running up to her.

"No arguments here!" Sheva replied as they both took off, passing the executioner.

The fence that blocked the house from the assembly place was knocked down, twisted and bent. The blade of that monster's axe had cut through the metal, creating an enormous gash through the chain links. They bounded over it and looked over their shoulders, watching as the Executioner turned to follow them. Chris raised his gun and fired at the advancing creature, rounds tearing into his gray and blood stained flesh. As he unloaded an entire clip into the beast, it still came forward, getting ever closer.

"C'mon, we can't let this thing get close." Chris turned and ran down a large dirt path in between two buildings, Sheva followed, turning to fire over her shoulder.

They soon came to a large opening, fruit stands occupying most of the space. They both turned around once more to face the monster and the horde of villagers. Sheva raised her gun, aiming at the monsters head. She fired four rounds into where the monster's face would be and miraculously, it fell to one knee, stunned from the hit. Next to her, Chris continued to fire at it, blood spurting out like geysers from the bullets holes.

The Executioner stood back up and, this time swinging his axe in front of him, instantly killing the villagers around him. The monsters continued to swing the axe with great strength as it grew near, knocking down two near by fruit stands, reducing them to a pile of splintered wood.

_Bullets aren't going to be enough, we need something more powerful._

Sheva looked around hurriedly, suddenly spotting an electrical transformer high up on a pole. She smiled in victory and took aim, hoping her theory would work. She fired the gun and instantly the transformer fell down, emitting an explosion of electricity all around it. The electricity hit the monster just as if was passing and forced it to stumble back in shock.

"Nice!" Chris laughed, now firing at advancing enemies. "We have to move again, that thing is getting closer."

Sheva nodded, seeing an escape route to the right, behind some nearby fruit stands. "This way!" Sheva took off, Chris glancing at her direction and then following. As soon as they rounded the corner of the fruit stand, the Executioner brought down its massive axe onto it, destroying their temporary barrier. Sheva raised her gun and shot more rounds into the creatures head, not no more than a meter or so away from it. The Executioner fell to its knee again and Sheva took the opportunity to run in and roundhouse the brute. The kick sent the monster stumbling backwards, and just as it was about to recover, Chris came up from behind her, upper cutting it in the jaw. There was a sickening crack of bone as the monster was forced back even more, running into the last fruit stand. The monster was now next to the gate they needed to get through to escape this mess, and as Sheva kept her eye on the beast, she noticed a stack of orange barrels directly to the right of it.

"Chris the oil drums!"

Chris looked in the direction she was pointing an nodded, raising his weapon and firing a single shot. The round entered the top most barrel, and instantly a fiery river of ignited oil spread over the dry dirt, engulfing the Executioner in flames. The monster writhed and cried out, a deep bellow of pain, but then came to both knees slowly and fell to the floor, finally dead.

As Chris and Sheva smiled at each other the whirring of a helicopter rang loud over the screams of the villagers that were randomly advancing on them. Chris and Sheva were too occupied at keeping them at bay, when both of their radios sprang into life.

"Sorry to keep you waiting! I'm gonna take out the door. Find some cover!"

Chris and Sheva took off together, looking up at the sky as Kirk's chopper flew into position.

"Take cover!" Someone screamed into their radios.

Chris nodded and led Sheva behind an old beat up and stripped shell of what used to be a bus. They both crouched there waiting for the impact of Kirk's RPG. The missile flew through the air, leaving a stream of smoke in its wake. It collided with the massive red door and a mushroom cloud of flam of debris flew into the air. Sheva covered her ears from the noise, and when the ground stopped shaking she looked up to see Chris glancing around the corner of the bus, checking to see if the coast was clear. Chris nodded and they both stood up, jogging towards the now open location where that door had been.

Sheva smiled, happy to finally be free from this, happy to continue on. Even if this mission had been turned on its head, they had both proved themselves capable to survive it. Sheva looked at Chris, who was thanking Kirk on his radio.

_Yes. I do feel safe calling you, Chris Redfield, my partner._

_

* * *

  
_

_**A/N:**__ Wow. What a chapter! It's quite long, but thank you so much for sticking to it. This was an incredibly difficult, yet fun chapter to write, and I believe I'm up for a challenge with the rest of it. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed yourselves, and remember to drop off a Review on your way out. I know it's cliché, but Reviews really keep me going, and tell me that there are people who enjoy my story._

_Till next time!_


	3. Chapter 2: Uroboros Rising

**Chapter II:** **Uroboros Rising**

Excella Gionne was an absolute vision, standing in the African sun, her body wrapped in a fine silk dress, hugging all the right curves and complimenting her alabaster flesh. The garment had a diving neckline running all the way down to just above her navel, revealing the soft contours of breasts. Here and there her look was accented with gold accessories, a watch, a large necklace, a belt, and her five inch stiletto heels. Whatever she wore, even in this unforgiving land, screamed and shrieked an elegance that was not subtle, in any sense of the word. She stood at the end of a long tin metal dock, the sun glaring and reflecting of its surface making everything seemingly brighter, washed out, and scorching hot. She pushed the rose tinted designer sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and squinted around at her surroundings. Clashing against the cerulean rolling waves of the ocean to her right was the cold and industrial oil refinery to her left. It reached towards the sky, great smoke stacks tainting the air with an acrid black smoke. A movement behind her, and the clunk of boots of metal is what made her turn around quickly, thinking it was one of those Plagas ridden soldiers Wesker had insisted upon being created.

Walking up the dock towards her was a figure dressed in a black cloak and bird-like ebony mask, its eyes ruby red and glittering, even in the shadow cast over it by its hood. It moved closer, looking forward and walking and a steady pace. Excella turned, waiting for it to speak.

"The BSAA have arrived in Kijuju."

Excella's full lips curved into a smile. "Perfect."

Behind the hooded figure two of the Plagas infected guards were stirring, suddenly looking out at the ocean. They pointed and looked through the sights of their guns. Excella raised an eyebrow as the sound of a humming motor broke through the air. She turned on her heel and followed the soldier's gaze. Coming fast from the horizon was an enormous boat, made of gray steel, with flags flying above it, ripping through the wind. One of the flags was marked with the symbol of TriCell, and Excella's eyes widened at the sight.

_He's here!_

The hooded figure stepped forward, standing just behind Excella as the boat drew ever closer, bouncing up and down in the rolling waves. Excella's fingers tightened around her gold clutch, and she reached a hand up to her ebony hair, twisted into a bun atop her elegant head, and made sure every strand was in the right place. Next she snapped open her clutch and snatched out her compact mirror. She flipped it open and checked her visage in the tiny mirror, making sure she looked absolutely flawless. She twisted her head left and right, making sure her blush was even, up and down, making sure her foundation was blended softly. When she shut the compact and shoved it back in her clutch, the boat was docked, and a couple of Plagas soldiers were escorting a man off, AK-47s ready in their grip.

Excella stood tall as Albert Wesker approached them, calling off the guards with a simple wave of his hand. They immediately turned and boarded the boat, leaving the three of them alone on the dock. Excella looked Wesker up and down, taking in his black leather trench coat, handsome face, tinted glasses, and head of platinum blonde hair. She smiled, extending her hand forward.

"Welcome to Africa Mr. Wesker."

Albert smirked and took her elegant hand in his gloved one. He shook her hand once and nodded. "Nice to see you again, Ms. Gionne." He started to move forward, down the dock and towards the oil refinery.

"Likewise. How was your journey?" Excella asked, following him, her heels clicking against the metal.

"It was fair. I am impressed with the soldiers; they are far more advanced than the ones in Spain, from what research I've gathered." Wesker spoke, his voice smooth and cool. A thin wave of cologne wafted from Wesker, subtle and strong, a silent dominance that made Excella shiver.

"As you said, Plagas adapts to the thoughts and feelings of the host. The fact that the government has very recently collapsed, somewhere inside their minds, they could be desperate for a leader." Excella glanced at more soldiers as they stepped off the dock and threw themselves into the shadow of the refinery, the cooling shade relieving the soft sting of the sun. "Irving certainly did his job." She looked forward again as they reached a pair of double doors that led to the inside of the refinery.

Two infected soldiers rushed forward and each took a handle, opening the door for the three of them. Wesker smirked, glancing at both soldiers and proceeded forward. "Is that so Ms. Gionne?" He asked, turning left to descend a set of stairs.

"It is human nature, despite any parasite controlling one's body, to want a leader. Humans want guidance, they crave control and structure."

"Interesting." Wesker responded simply.

Excella looked at Wesker as they finally entered the facility, turning left as soon as they came through a door, and ascended a set of dirty stairs. Their footsteps reverberated off the cement walls as they moved, no one saying a word. Excella could hear the distant workings of machinery, the shouts of workers, and the steady breathing of the cloaked figure next to her, moving deliberately and fluidly. When they reached the top of the stairs they took the first door on the left, which opened up into an enormous room with catwalks and large windows. They worked their way across the catwalks, climbing up and down ladders, walking across many platforms. The work was absolutely horrific. Excella glared as they reached yet another ladder. Wesker was the first to go down, followed by Excella, and at last the cloaked figure. Personally, Excella was surprised she hadn't broken a heel already. She had no idea that this oil refinery was so…inconvenient. All the while those infected soldiers stood about, their eyes wide and bloodshot, and their mouths blood stained, and sometimes disfigured. These soldiers were absolutely hideous, but necessary to keep the threat of the BSAA at bay. Their involvement was not originally planned, but after experimenting on some specimens taken from the village, the results had pleased Wesker immensely, and as soon as Excella discovered the BSAA had discovered Irving's presence in Africa and were on their way, she had Irving infect a group of villagers, which eventually led to an outbreak of Las Plagas.

It was then that the parasite got a bit out of hand. Instead of manufacturing soldiers for their cause, the parasite adapted to the villager's thoughts and feelings, eventually developing a cold blooded hatred of anyone who was an outsider. A xenophobia spurned by the parasite that invaded their bodies. They had no immediate control over the infected that occupied the village, but they discovered that with their soldiers, such as the ones around them at that moment, could be used to obtain control over them, as slight as that power may be. After all, the soldiers and the villagers shared a common ailment.

They eventually reached an industrial elevator and clambered into it. Two soldiers filed in after them and one pressed the 'up' button. The elevator doors rattled closed and the platform jerked upwards, rattling the entire way, taking them higher and higher at an alarmingly quick pace. Behind Excella, Wesker cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind him, looking upwards for the quickest of seconds and then forward again. The entire ride up was perfectly silent besides the chillingly raspy breath of the infected in front of them. Excella glared at them in disgust as they reached the very top floor, the doors sliding forward and the soldiers moving forward and then standing to the side. Excella walked out, finding herself in a long hallway with a single door at the very end. The fluorescent lights were weak and fading, casting a blurry light on the dirty cement walls and floor. As soon as Wesker exited the elevator, she moved forward, the cloaked figure at her side, Wesker bringing up the rear. As they drew closer they could see a bright fluorescent light pinching through the gap between the door and its frame. Excella approached the door and reached out, grabbing the handle and pulling it open.

"Excella, Wesker! Nice to see yous two again!" A comic voice called out to them from inside the room.

Excella's eyes shot to a man standing by a massive window that looked out to the Atlantic Ocean. He was dressed in a white dress jacket, a pair of faded black and crème striped pants, and a flamboyant orange shirt, unbuttoned just enough to expose the dip in between his collar bones and a silver chain. Hanging from a breast pocket was a pair of aviator sunglasses, and on his feet a pair of unnecessarily loud crocodile skin shoes. Excella took in his appearance and smirked. Ricardo Irving had always had an interesting sense of fashion, ever since he had contacted her just a few months ago. He certainly dressed for something, but Excella was not too sure that 'impressed' was it. Excella looked away from his outfit and up into his eyes. He had a pale youthful face with a trace of a facial hair, and a head of strawberry blonde hair.

Ricardo Irving, his entire being, was a caricature of a New Jersey native, from his outlandish clothing, to his voice. But despite all of this, Irving was an incredible business man, and the right one for the job at hand. Irving was able to meet every request Excella and Wesker had brought fourth, quickly and efficiently, and that simple fact is what made him a valuable asset.

"Nice to see you too, Ricardo." Excella gave the man a sly smile.

"Please sit down." Irving motioned to an aluminum meeting table in the middle of the room. Upon it were old cups of coffee, a half bottle of whiskey, and piles of papers and files in folders.

Excella and Wesker moved to the table and sat down, scooting the chairs forward, causing them to screech against the cement floor. Ricardo was at the other side, pouring himself some whiskey into a coffee mug. Wesker sat next to Excella, leaning back in his chair, hands before him, fingertips touching each other. His focus was apparently on Ricardo. Excella looked back at Irving, sitting up straight and crossing one leg over the other.

"So the initial infe—"

"Who's that?" Ricardo interrupted Excella, motioning at the cloaked figure standing behind them with his cup of whiskey.

Excella was taken aback for a moment, looking from the cloaked figure back to Ricardo, but before she could responded Wesker straightened up a bit, lowering his arms to the arms rests of the chair.

"Who this is, is of no importance. It is a weapon, and a body guard of sorts for Ms. Gionne." Wesker spoke coolly, not even glancing at the mystery behind him. "Please, Excella, continue what you were saying.

"Of course." Excella answered, shifting in her chair as Ricardo starred at the cloaked figure for a few moments, then looked at Excella. "As I was saying, the initial infection has spread like wildfire across Kijuju, and the BSAA have put up a barricade, both to contain the violence, and in hopes to prevent your escape." Excella nodded at Irving as he lowered himself into a chair, kicking his feet up to rest on the table.

"What's the status on Uroboros?" Irving asked, downing the last of the alcohol, and smacking his lips.

"Uroboros has been planted." The cloaked figure spoke up suddenly, its voice soft and muffled.

Ricardo raised an eyebrow. "It can talk."

A corner of Wesker's mouth twitched, but otherwise he remained totally composed. Excella watched him as he sat up fully in his chair, looking at Irving. "This is where you come in Ricardo." Wesker adjusted his sunglasses as he spoke. "You will lure the BSAA's Alpha team to the location where Uroboros has been planted. Uroboros will kill the team and you will report back to me on the creature's behavior."

"You've gotta be yankin' my chain Wesker." Ricardo stiffened. "What if that thing turns on me?"

"You of course will be armed, and for extra measure, you will have the accompaniment of our guest here." Wesker motioned a gloved hand towards the cloaked figure. As soon as he did, Ricardo didn't look very assured. There was a stain of anxiety still on his face. Wesker saw this and sighed, "I assure you Mr. Irving, our guest is fully capable of protecting you, and itself. I've put in much effort to ensure that."

Ricardo looked out the window in thought, his hands still wrapped around his empty cup. After a few moments Ricardo took his feet off the table and planted them on the floor, then lifted himself out of his chair. "Alright. I'll collect the data, but I want another mill."

Excella scoffed, "Absolutely not—"

"Done." Wesker interposed.

Excella shot Wesker a wary glance, but he was not paying attention. Wesker stood up and shook hands with Irving. Excella also stood, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, and readjusting her necklace. Irving was striding towards the door and opening it.

"Alright let's go." Ricardo said to the cloaked figure and slipped out the door, but the figure didn't budge.

Wesker walked over, leaning in close to it. "Go with him and protect him if there are any threats." The figure's mask nodded and it moved swiftly to the door. "Oh, and keep a close eye on him, as well."

"Affirmative," came the muffled voice, and the guest walked out of the room, its black high heeled boots hitting the cement with a dull click.

As soon as it was down the hallway, near the elevator, Excella turned to Wesker. "Why did you send her with him?" Excella crossed her arms and clicked her heel against the floor, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "That idiot could put them both in jeopardy."

"Relax, Excella." Wesker lifted a hand to her face for a brief moment and then dropped it, walking towards the door. "This is a sort of training for her." He reached into a pocket of his trench coat and procured a hand held electronic device, the screen large with a small keyboard at the bottom. Lines of data were displayed on the screen along with a picture. He watched as the data moved across the screen, and after a moment started to press a few buttons on the keypad. Excella watched him, a blush blooming on her cheek in the wake of the man's touch. "In her advanced stage, this is a perfect opportunity to test the P30." Wesker slipped the device back into his coat and turned to Excella, who took a deep breath in, trying to collect herself in Wesker's gaze.

"I think it's time for an injection Ms. Gionne. Where is the serum?"

Excella nodded and moved forward. "I have a case on the boat." As she got closer, Wesker stood back, opening the door wider for Excella, gesturing for her to go first.

"Excellent," Wesker smirked, his voice a cold purr.

* * *

Chris and Sheva both turned quickly, guns raised in front of them, aiming at the commotion going on to the left. Chris searched area and finally his eyes came to rest on the struggling of a woman on a high up balcony. She was hunched over the rail, her blonde hair covering her face, as she gasped and sputtered, obviously sobbing. She was wearing a dirty and torn dress which was a deep crimson, like blood, and stopped at her knees. She reached out a hand towards them, as she struggled to stand up straight.

"Help! Somebody help me!"

But just as she started to stand, using the rail for support, one of those villagers kicked open the door she had escaped from. He grabbed her arm and pulled, but she held fast onto the railings. She was crying out, kicking and screaming as the man pulled harder, eventually ripping her off the metal. He dragged her back in as she whimpered and screamed. Chris's mouth opened wide as, just before the door was slammed shut, the girl expelled a drawn out and desperate "Help!"

"C'mon. We need to help her!" Chris said to Sheva, who nodded in response.

They ran forward, towards the stairs that led up to the house, passed piles of burning tires, and more abandoned and dilapidated buildings. When they reached the stairway, guns raised, Sheva motioned for Chris to go first; she would bring up the rear. Chris ran up the stairs, his legs kicking off the stone steps until he reached the door. Chris raised his gun above his shoulders, ready to fire. Sheva moved behind him, crouching down and sweeping the area with her gun, just in case any locals decided to ambush them. That fight in the public assembly area had told them to trust no one in this damned village. Everyone was an enemy, and they needed to keep on their toes if they wanted to survive. Chris paused at the doorway, taking in a deep breath, calming the hammering of his heart. As soon as he expelled the air he swooped in, crouching slightly and moving swiftly into the dark interior. Chris's eyes immediately fell on the girl, stumbling towards him. Chris stopped as she fell into his arms, limp and cold. A thick layer of sweat covered her skin as he held her. Sheva walked in just as she did this, her gun raised. Chris gripped the girl tighter and moved her in front of him, his hands grasping her torso.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Chris asked the girl, but she stumbled in his grip. Chris was not able to get her to stand up straight; she was like a rag doll. Chris looked at Sheva as she moved deeper into the dwelling, her gun still extended forward. "Be careful. They may still be here." Sheva looked at Chris and nodded.

The home was not very large, but it was divided into two rooms by a wall that came from the front and stopped in the center. In that wall was a large hole, exposing the copper rods that held the cement up sturdy. Here and there were piles of broken furniture and worn shelves that decorated the room. It looked as if the occupants had pushed everything to the edges of the room, and Chris's mind instantly flashed to when he and Claire used to do the same thing, push all the living room furniture to the walls, and set up a massive fort made of pillows, cushions, and sheets. To see it here, however, was completely haunting. What were they doing in here?

The girl started to squirm in his arms and Chris looked down. She was moving her arm, her breath raspy and her moans were muffled by sealed lips. She was raising her arm, up and around his back. Chris looked down at the girl in his arms and asked, "Are you okay?" But she didn't answer back, still squirming. Suddenly her hand latched onto his shoulder strap. Chris's eyes widened at the strength of her grip, which was almost vice like. The next moment, the girl yelled ferociously, and her face opened up, revealing the same kind of mandibles their first enemy had wielded. Chris gasped as the girl straightened up, quick as lighting, all kinds of horrifying sounds escaping the gaping jagged hole that was this monster's mouth. Before Chris could react the girl had brought her mouth closer and Chris could feel the hot and humid breath, and could smell the rancid stench that came along with it. The mandibles were stretching around his head, and he was sure that he would be enveloped by them.

"Chris!" Sheva shouted somewhere to his right, but he could not see her.

Then there was the echoing sound of a round being fired, and the next moment the girl was off of him. The round hit the wall with a _ping_ and Chris opened his eyes. The girl was standing across the room, her face still opened, dripping with blood and saliva. In the next second she was running forward again, her face now closed up, but she was still dangerous. Chris raised his gun and fired two rounds, the first hit her chest, which caused her to stumble backwards, and the next hit her shoulder. Sheva rushed forward and fired her gun, her rounds ripping into her arm. Chris glared and aimed at the woman's head as she recovered from the bullets. As soon as his aim was lined up, he fired. The round entered the woman's skull and a massive explosion of blood, flesh, membrane, and bone spurned a massive tentacle that erupted from her neck.

"What the _FUCK?!_" Chris shouted as he took aim again, firing without a specific target. The rounds tore into the monster's torso, but it kept coming forward. Chris's heart beat fast at the tentacle whipped around, and to Chris's terror, he saw that it was tipped with some sort of blade.

_That's just perfect!_

Sheva fired her gun at the monster's legs, a round hitting its knee and causing it to fall to the floor. Chris seized the opportunity and ran forward. When he reached the creatures body he brought his knee up towards his chest and with all his strength, brought it down on the base of the tentacle. There was a wet snapping noise and the tentacle was smashed against the cement. The writhing appendage stopped whipping about, and the body lay motionless. Chris stepped backward, breathing hard. He looked at Sheva still had her gun pointed at the silent corpse.

"What the hell did they do to her?" Chris asked, gripping his gun tightly.

"No idea. But I have a strange feeling that whatever happened to her, could happen with the others."

Chris and Sheva shared a worried glance.

_Whatever is wrong with the villagers, what happened here changes everything._

The sudden shouts and screams of villagers is what made Chris and Sheva snap to attention. Both of them turned, guns already firing on the advancing threat.

* * *

Alpha team was filing into the dark room, their guns glinting in the single fluorescent light that flickered above them. They had their guns drawn and were sweeping the area. They talked in muffled voices, one of them that must have been the leader of the pack, was touching a radio in his ear. There were five, maybe six of them, all armed to the teeth with weapons and armor.

Ricardo Irving's eyes flashed as he moved to the door, hoping beyond hope this would work. He reached out and gripped the door with his right hand, the handle of a case containing a laptop in his other hand. Before he opened the door he took a deep breath in. As soon as he opened the heavy metal door there were red laser sights trained on him. His muscles tensed as he looked forward, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping. Irving was no actor, but he certainly did think he was doing a damned good job of pretending to be caught off guard.

"Freeze!" The leader called out, his voice as cold as steel.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the BSAA." Ricardo let the door screech shut behind him. "Seems like yous guys are smarter than you look." He let out a nervous chuckle.

"Drop the case." The leader snapped, raising his own gun, pointing it at Irving's chest. "Do it _now_."

Irving glared and dropped the case; a little annoyed at the man's demanding tone. His eyes shot towards the ceiling, waiting for it to come, hopefully any minute now. As soon as the leader gave the sign, one of the agents rushed forward, snapping up the case. As soon as the agent returned and set the case down on a nearby wooden table, another two agents rushed forward, each grabbing a hold of one of his arms. Their grip was tight and digging into his skin, the pain of it made Irving wince.

The leader of the group snapped open the case, revealing a single silver lap top, shinning brilliantly in the dim light. Irving watched him intently, the air thick with tension only he could feel. These ignorant bastards, thinking they had won, when at this very moment, that cloaked figure Wesker had sent to help him, was luring Uroboros closer and closer to them. The figure had told him that Uroboros sensed the heat in living creature's bodies, since the creature was essentially blind, so it had to rely on those senses to capture its prey. And since there was such a large heat signature in this very room, it would be immediately attracted.

"So Irving," the leader spoke as he turned the laptop on, "Where is the buyer? They have to be around here somewhere."

"Well, yous guys came a bit earlier than I suspected. My client should be here at any minute." Irving sneered at the leader.

"You and you," the leader gestured at random agents. "Cover the doors, shoot anyone who approaches."

"Yous guys are just too smart for me. Too smart."

With a sudden bang the ceiling of the room collapsed in, whipping up a cloud of dust and dirt. They were all blinded and taken off guard. When the agent's grips loosened on Irving out of surprise he pulled himself free and dove to the side, crawling towards the door. The agents were shouting as the dust started to clear, and then they were shrieking as a massive monster stood in the center of the room.

Uroboros was a great writhing mass of ink black worms that were formed into a torso, head, arms, and legs. A thick gooey substance oozed off the worms, hitting the floor with a wet smack. It stood almost to the hole in the ceiling when it stood straight up, its arms long and tentacle like whipping around as if they had a mind of their own. As Uroboros stood there, a brief moment passed as the agents stood there, mouths agape, then they lifted their guns and started to fire. Rounds tore in and disappeared as it hit the massive beast. A roar shook from the beast as it was hit by machine gun fire from all sides, the air thick the sound of gun fire. Ricardo ducked and slipped out the door he had entered from, looking through the grate on the door.

Suddenly the monster drew back one of its massive arms and swung it around, knocking three agents off their feet, each landing hard on the ground. Irving mocked a wince and laughed. The Monsters was now approaching the fallen soldiers, swing its arm again, and as soon as the arm descended on one of the agents, a crack of bone stabbed the air.

"What the fuck!" one of the agents screamed as he pulled the trigger of his gun, unleashing a torrent of bullets at Uroboros.

"Shit! Shit! It's coming this way!"

"Get out of here! Go, go, go!"

Irving looked away as Uroboros dug a tentacle _through_ one of the agents. The writhing mass broke through the man's chest, coming out on the other side. Then the monster tossed the corpse to the side like a rag doll, moving on to the other agents.

It took mere moments for Uroboros to kill the others, leaving behind a mass of bodies, and splatters of the black ooze that dripped of its body. The monster eventually left through the hole in the ceiling it had created, the squishing sound of the worms wriggling about following the beast, a disturbing sound that made Irving's stomach turn.

Irving paused outside the door a moment, letting the silence of death settle inside the room, making sure that Uroboros was far away. When it was safe Irving smirked and turned away, walking towards the elevator at the end of the filthy corridor. He slipped his hands in his pants pockets as he walked. After observing the killing potential that Uroboros wielded, Irving was pleasantly taken aback. The monster was very lethal and had a bloodlust that could rival the most dangerous of BOWS on the market right now. But alas, it was not Wesker's plan to sell this creation. Too bad, it would have easily sold for millions, if not near a billion.

"Where's the laptop?"

Irving jumped when the muffled voice broke through the newly drawn silence. He turned around to see the mysterious cloaked figure, standing mere feet away. Irving's eyes widened as he remembered the laptop her had forgotten. Without a word to the figure Irving hurried down the corridor again, opening the door and slipping back inside. Once inside Irving paused, looking at the carnage all around him, blood and black slime covered almost everything in the room; even the now broken table the laptop has been set. Irving sighed and moved through the room, hopping here and there to avoid the puddles of ooze. There was a terrible smell in the air that must have come from it. It smelled like sulfur, so thick and pungent that it burned his nose and made his eyes water. Irving wiped the tears away with his sleeve and finally reached the crumpled pile of debris. He bent down and threw some splinters of wood aside, seeing the metallic case slowly being uncovered. When he had finally cleared the way and retrieved the case there was a thin veil of sweat on his brow. Irving exhaled deeply and wiped the dust off the laptop, grabbing a hold of the case lid to shut it, but something was missing, something that made him stop for a moment. Irving opened the lid wider and looked at the edge of the laptop, his eyes narrowing. The slot where the hard drive should be was gone, empty, non-existent. Irving shit the case and looked wildly around, grimacing at the thought that it might be somewhere in this carnage.

"Shit, shit, shit." Irving whispered under his breath as he maneuvered around the room, craning his neck in different directions, trying to find the hard drive.

"Sheva, there's a door, but it looks broken."

Irving froze. His eyes were wide, his breath stopping. He slowly turned, searching for the place where the gruff muffled voice came from. His fell upon the door that the BSAA agents had come through, dented in warped by Uroboros's rage. Then there came a banging noise from the other side, and that was all that Irving needed.

Screw the hard drive, this was not in the plans, and Irving didn't fancy the prospects of getting killed, or worse, arrested.

* * *

With a mighty force Sheva and Chris kicked in the door that had blocked their path. It fell away from the frame, dented and mangled, clattering to the cement floor with a noise that echoed inside the tiny dimly lit room. Chris entered the room first and Sheva followed, both of their guns raised and at the ready. Sheva scanned the room; her eyes narrow as it took in the scene that had just walked into. Dead bodies littered the room, and just like the corpses of Alpha team they had come across on the way up here, each was covered in that thick inky substance.

"What the hell happened in here?" Chris spoke to her right, his voice thick with disgust.

Sheva looked over the corpses, heavily armed with both weapons and armor. Like Sheva had said, these wounds were not made with bullets. This had to be something else, something much more ominous. And what exactly was this horrible slime that stained the room? Sheva walked cautiously though the room, looking for any clues that might give them some answers.

Chris was jogging across the room, finally crouching next to a man who was leaning on a pile of rubbish. Sheva looked over, seeing that the man was moving and whimpering with pain. His breath came short and weak, causing him to speak in a raspy whisper. He too was covered with that black substance, as was the floor around him. Sheva couldn't help but think what a horrible death bed that was. Chris bent lower; reaching an arm around the man's back, helping him to sit up.

"Hey, who did this?"

The man squirmed moaning in pain as he fell back against the pile of debris, too weak to sit up. Chris kept a comforting hand on his shoulder, as if to tell him it was all going to be OK. But the man already had blood stained around his mouth, indicating internal bleeding.

"Something attacked us…Irving…He got away…It was a set up…" The man moved a hand to the wound in his abdomen, dark with blood.

"A set up?" Chris asked, surprised and confused.

Sheva narrowed her eyes as the man looked down, slowly reaching into his pocket for something. Chris and Sheva watched as the man extracted what looked like a hard drive for a computer. He lifted it as Chris reached out his hand to retrieve it.

"What is this?" Chris asked, looking into the man's glazed eyes.

A sudden movement to her left made Sheva's head snap towards the sound of shuffling. Just as her eyes fell upon a barred window there was a shadow that moved quickly passed it. Sheva glared and moved forward, her gun gripped in both hands.

"Its data regarding the deal…I stole it from their computer."

Sheva reached the window and looked to the right. All the way down the hallway there was a figure dressed in lightly covered clothing, the light was coming from behind it, so what Sheva could see was cast in shadow. Sheva had approached and looked just in time to see the figure dash around the corner, vanishing from sight, only leaving the shuffling sound of footsteps in its wake.

The man was breathing heavy now, his lungs trying to get air as the rest of his body was slowly dying. "You got to get it to HQ…" The man paused for a moment, looking into Chris's face, then his neck went limp and his head fell to the side. He was dead.

"Hey…Hey, hang in there!" Chris shook the man's body lightly as Sheva turned around, the image of the figure still in her mind.

Sheva watched as Chris paused for a moment, sighing, then stood up slowly. Sheva moved forward a few steps, slightly numb by this atmosphere of death. All around, and scattered throughout this building, were the fallen bodies of the BSAA's Alpha team. These were men they had worked with, men they had known, men who had devoted their lives to the same cause as themselves. Chris too seemed to be wrapped up in this numbness, his eyes unfocused and distant.

"I saw someone, but they ran away." Sheva said softly.

They watched each other for a moment before Chris reached a hand up to the radio, pressing the button that would initiate an outgoing message.

"Kirk, do you copy? We got the data, but Alpha team is down. Irving got away." Chris glanced around the room again, and then looked back at Sheva.

"Roger. Relay the data from the vehicle at the storage facility." Kirk's voice broke through both of their radios, fuzzy with static.

"Copy that." Chris muttered and dropped his hand.

He then strode forward towards Sheva, holding out the hard drive for her to see. She looked at it and nodded. Their eyes met in the dimness of the light and they held that gaze for a few moments, neither them having to speak about the loss that lay slain around them. After a full minute Sheva looked away, once again scanning the room.

"I don't like the looks of this, but we have to keep moving" she said and strode across the room to the aluminum door.

"Right…"Chris replied from behind.

Sheva paused at the door and looked around, noticing she was not being followed. Chris was bent down next to one of the soldiers, searching his gear for something. Sheva raised an eyebrow and asked, "What are you doing?"

"These guys have to have some clips on them. I get the feeling we're going to need all the ammo we can get our hands on. Search that body over there." Chris pointed to the corpse nearest her without looking up from his work.

"Right, of course. Good idea." Sheva nodded and crouched down next to the man.

Even if they weren't alive, Sheva felt absolutely horrible about pillaging these men for left over ammo. It was true that they needed all they could get, but it still felt like a morbid kind of theft. Sheva furrowed her brow as she unzipped and unclipped the man's gear, reaching her hand inside and feeling for the cold metal of a clip. After about five minutes of searching all the bodies, Sheva had found three full clips and a can of first aid spray, and Chris had found two first aid sprays and 4 clips. This brought their inventory and ammo supplies up significantly.

After they were done they left the room through the only other door that hadn't been kicked off its frame. This led them to a small corridor that they followed, eventually veering off to the right and leading to an old industrial elevator. Chris pushed the call button and the platform rattled up to them, then the gates slid open. Chris stood back and smiled, "Ladies first."

"How kind of you Mr. Redfield." Sheva smirked and entered the elevator, Chris following close behind.

"Ready?" Chris asked as the gates closed.

"Roger." Sheva replied.

Chris reached out and pressed the down button and after a few moments the elevator lurched into life, bringing them down into the basement section that would lead to the storage facility.

* * *

This certainly was a basement alright. It looked like a basement, it felt like a basement, and it smelt like a basement. The walls were damp and the air was cold. The smell of sewer and wet dog wafted through the air like some morbid perfume. Chris scrunched his nose for a moment as he tried to get acclimated to the new environment. It was very dark down here, only the occasional overhead fluorescent light available to shed a blanket of light down the long corridor that eventually snaked to the right. Chris and Sheva looked at each other then moved, Chris leading while Sheva followed. They jogged down the corridor; hands gripped on their guns, until they turned right and went up a small set of stair that led to a rusty barred door. Chris pushed it open to reveal another room, much like the one they had left, but this one had another hallway leading out of it on the left wall, and a maintenance door against the opposite wall. When they both shuffled in Chris's eyes moved to a single corpse lying on the floor. It too was dressed like the other members of Alpha Team.

_Another body! Damn it! Are there no survivors!?_

"Chris this door is locked." Sheva's voice ripped him from his anger and he looked up.

Sheva was standing in front of the orange maintenance door, her hand gripped on the door's handle. She was pulling it, but it wouldn't budge. She let her hand slip and turned to face Chris. He sighed and looked around the room, and even at the body before him, thinking that the fallen agents might have been trying to escape before he was killed. But there was no hint of a key, and Chris's face fell.

"Maybe we'll find something down this hallway." Chris motioned to it, but Sheva's face read ambivalence.

All around the room were more globs and streaks of that black slime. Sheva was probably wary of what they might encounter. She eventually nodded, probably because she realized they had no other options.

When they moved through the dark hallway they found themselves in a room with high ceilings and a chain link fence that enclosed a small section of the room. On the other side of the room was a massive furnace big enough to park a Hummer. Chris and Sheva stood in front of it, wondering what exactly it was used for, especially in a place like this. Chris walked up to the furnace window, smudged with soot, and peered in. It was completely empty, no sign of having been used for a while. Chris shrugged and turned around to see Sheva investigating a large canister on the nearest wall.

"It's gas." Sheva said simply. "And it can be taken off of its mount if you pull hard enough."

"Gas?"

"For the furnace. This is probably where they dispose of garbage." Sheva replied, taking a few steps forward.

"Or other things…"Chris said, knowing that it sounded a bit paranoid, but after the things he had seen, he wouldn't discount the potential.

There were more bodies in here, and even if he was used to it, each one still brought a pang of surprise and a shiver of terror. What exactly happened to these guys? Was it the villagers? Had they caused this massacre? No, it couldn't have been, these men were armed more heavily than they were. It had to be something else.

"Chris!" Sheva exclaimed, pointing at the floor.

Chris followed her gesture to the floor and a warm rush of relief flooded trough him when he saw, glinting in the red lights of the furnace, a small key seemingly fallen out of the nearest corpses hand when it fell. Chris smiled and walked over, bent down, and picked up the key. He slipped it into his pocket and smiled at Sheva, then with one last look at the furnace, jerked his head towards the door, telling Sheva that they should get the hell out of there.

As they walked back through the corridor the hair on the back of Chris's neck started to stand up and he paused for a moment. Sheva stopped next to him, her eyes wide and worried.

"Something wrong?"

"Did you hear that?" Chris asked in a whisper.

Sheva looked around, upholstering her gun as she did. Chris could have sworn he heard something move, something almost slither across the cement floor. Chris also took out his gun, holding it up and looking at Sheva. She met his gaze and they both nodded, deciding to sweep the area again. Those villagers could have followed them down here, and the basement of a derelict building was not somewhere he wanted to be stuck. The next moment they both moved forward, guns raised, until they broke away from the hallway and entered the first room again. They searched the area with the barrels of their guns, ready to fire at the first thing that moved. Chris jogged over to the maintenance door, slipping the key from his pocket. There was urgency in his movements; a sort of desire to leave was quickly as possible. Sheva was next to him as Chris held the key up to the lock, seeing if it was the key the lock required.

Then from the corner of his there was a swirling of movement and Chris looked around quickly, his eyes being drawn to the ceiling. His eyes widened as he took in what exactly was going on. There was a mass of what looked like large worms writing and slithering on the ceiling. Thousands, if not millions, of worms squirmed their way to a decayed humanoid figure. They wrapped themselves around the figure as it grew larger and larger.

"What the hell is that?" Sheva asked in disgust as they stood by the door in shock.

Soon the mass got to large and fell to the floor with an echoing wet smack. As soon as it was on the floor, black writhing tentacles shot out from the body, reaching across the floor until it grabbed onto the corpse of the Alpha team agent. When the body was almost covered in tentacles it was dragged into the mass as it slowly stood up, taking on a roughly human form with arms, legs, and a head, but it was all covered in a thick trunk of worms. The worms absorbed the corpse wrapping around it and pulling it into itself. There was a feral gargling snarl was the monster drew up into its full height. Now a black writhing monster, dripping wet with that inky black ooze.

"I think that's what got Alpha team!" Chris said, raising his gun and pointing it at the slithering mass.

They both managed to fire off a few rounds before the monster's arm shot towards them, extending well passed its original size. Chris and Sheva dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack, landing in the entrance of the hallway. The monster turned towards them and moved forward faster than Chris would have guessed it could. On four legs it moved towards them, a dull roar breaking through the squirming worms. Chris and Sheva stepped back, firing at what they guessed to be the head, but it still advanced without a flinch.

"Fall back!" Sheva shouted, and they both turned on a heel and ran down the corridor, entering the furnace room.

When they entered they hooked a right, turning around to see the monster hot on their heels. Sheva stood and fired until there was the dry click of an empty click. She ejected the clip just as the creature reached the door, slamming in another as a loud siren went off and a flashing red light turned on above them.

"What the hell?" Sheva asked watching as a heavy sliding door shut behind the creature, locking them inside.

They were now locked into a room a room with a monster they had never encountered before. With a precious supply of ammo, and seemingly no progress in actually hurting this thing, Chris was starting to fear for the worse. That was until he spied the gas canister standing against the nearest wall. The image of this creature absorbing the corpse flashed within Chris's mind, and he rushed forward, prying the canister off the wall until it clattered heavily onto the floor.

"Sheva, get over here!" Chris called out.

Sheva stopped firing at the approaching beast and turned around, spying the canister and immediately knowing the plan. She dashed over as Chris backed up, his gun raised and ready. The monster was quickly squirming closer, its movement's jerky. But soon the enemy was right above the canister, and as Chris had predicted the worms wrapped around it, fusing the orange of the canister to all that black. Chris took aim and fired, resulting in a spectacular bubble of fire that engulfed the monster, reducing it to a squirming puddle.

"Brilliant!" Sheva shouted and clapped Chris on the shoulder.

"Thanks—" Chris started to speak, but was pulled from his thoughts by the sight of the creature forming again from the puddle. "Shit! Can nothing kill this thing?" Chris raised his gun and fired.

"Chris, I think we need something a little stronger." Sheva put her hand on his shoulder and motioned to the massive furnace behind them.

"You're right. C'mon, we have to lure this thing inside." Chris nodded and they both turned, standing just inside the furnace.

Chris looked behind him, making sure the monster was following them, and indeed it was, now reassembled back into its original form. Chris fired at the monster as it moved closer, slowly walking backward as it took its first step into the furnace. The monster had to rearranged itself to fit through the door, easily collapsing its structure to slip through the tiny entrance.

"Sheva, go around and pull the handle of the furnace's control panel." Chris shouted over the creatures growls.

"What about you? You'll be burned alive!" Sheva shot back.

"I'll slip out at the last second. We have to make sure this bastard stays in here."

"If you say so." Sheva took a deep breath in and turned, exiting the other only other door.

Chris back up into the furnace a little more, still firing at the monster as it moved forward. He aimed at its head, its arms, and that mass of an orange tumor that stuck out of its chest. Chris was pleasantly taken aback when, as soon as the round tore into it that tumor the creature wailed and stopped its progress. That must be the monster's weak spot. Chris shot at it more, and each time the monster shrieked in what Chris guessed was pain.

"I'm turning it on! Watch out!"

That was Chris's cue to leave. Chris glared and raised his gun one more time as a large buzzer sounded the closing of the furnace doors. He cleaned out the clip and turned, crouching down and rolling out of the door before it sunk any lower. He rolled across the cement until her sprang up and turned around, watching as the doors touched down, shut tight with the sound of hydraulics. In the next moment the entire chamber was filled with the bright yellow and red glow of burning fire. Chris and Sheva stood by the window, panting and out of breath, watching as the monster fell to the floor, writhing and tossing this way and that, shrieking in pain.

When it was all over there was silence. Chris walked over to the entrance as the door slid open again, looking in to see what had become of the monster. All that was left was a thick puddle of watery inky slime. At this Chris sighed, and his muscles relaxed, his shoulder falling. It was dead. They had done it. The two of them had done what the entirety of Alpha Team could not, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.

"This thing was responsible for the deaths of Alpha Team. We need to report this to HQ."

Chris nodded, "I agree. Whatever that thing was, it changes everything."

* * *

"I got it."

Sheva glanced at Chris, standing with the door of one of the sandstone colored Hummers wide open, a large case sitting on the seat before him. They had escaped the building's basement via another service lift, finding themselves in the storage facility Kirk had told them about. This is where Alpha team had parked their vehicles, and acted as a makeshift head quarters while behind enemy lines. It was secluded with a limited number of doors, so they could keep any amount of invaders at bay. The roof was very high and covered with large windows that let in huge amounts of daylight. The whole facility was freakishly silent, and relatively untouched from what Sheva could see as she swept the room with her gun. It looked like the chaos outside these walls hadn't sunk its crazed teeth into it this place yet. It was almost like a haven.

A small part of Sheva wanted to stay here, wanted to crawl into one of those Hummers and sleep for a few days. She was already tired, exhausted from this fight for survival, and her whole body ached. Yet despite all this pain, there was something inside Sheva that made her keep moving forward. In her mind's eye she could see her parents, smiling and happy, still alive. That thought made her take a deep breath in, drawing her nerves together, composing her emotions and mindset once again.

Still watching the surrounding area Sheva spoke, "What was that thing?"

"A BOW that scum bag Irving left behind to set us up," Chris replied, opening up the case to reveal a laptop, the background emblazoned with the BSAA logo. "Considering what it did to Alpha Team, I think we're lucky to still be breathing."

Sheva lowered her gun, confident in the evidence that showed there were no threats in the immediate area. "If only we could have gotten there sooner."

"If we had, we'd probably be dead too." Chris answered darkly, glancing at her over his shoulder.

Sheva's face fell and she looked away from Chris. She knew he didn't mean it, but his works left a sting. What he had said was true. If they had been mere moments sooner, that thing would have definitely killed them both. After seeing what it did to Alpha Team, slaughtering a huge group of professionally trained and seasoned soldiers, there was no question what could have happened. Still, Sheva could not help thinking that they could have saved them. They could have killed it. After all, they had defeated it, just the two of them. What made them any different? Sheva looked back at Chris as he stepped away from the laptop. He is what made things different. Chris Redfield and his colorful resume. He was the one best suited for these situations; after all he had seen and done.

"Chris to HQ, do you copy?" His hand was on his radio, sending his words back to Kirk.

Kirk's voice sprang to life in Sheva's ear just a few seconds later, "This is HQ. Excellent work out there. We'll analyze the data immeadiatley."

"This whole town has gone to Hell," Chris spoke urgently, not letting HQ just slip away while they had a solitary moment to relay their experiences to the right people. "The people here, they're acting like those Ganado detailed in the Kennedy report and aside from that, there's something new, something we've never encountered before."

"Our transportation has been taken out too," Sheva piped up. "Requesting a mission update."

"The mission stands. Capturing Irving is your top priority. We believe he may have fled to the mines on the other side of the train station."

Sheva and Chris looked at each other, their eyes wide with anger and confusion. Never before had HQ been like this, at least not since Sheva had joined. They were usually very adamant about keeping their agents safe. To keep the mission objectives while the initial infiltration team had been wiped out was alarming, and a little too suspicious.

"Wait, we're the only two left, you want us to go in there alone!?" Chris snapped his eyes narrowed.

"Delta team have been dispatched and are on their way."

Sheva's eyes widened and a stab of fear punctured her stomach.

_Josh!_

"They will assist you in locating and apprehending Irving."

Chris sighed with frustration, his saw tight with anger. Sheva moved forward toward Chris as if he were Kirk. "But wait, we can't…" He voice was on the verge of shouting, on the verge of panic.

Kirk interrupted her, his voice firm and resilient, "I repeat, your mission stands. We can't afford to let him get away. Proceed to the mines beyond the station. Over and out." Kirk cut off the connection, his farewell cold.

Sheva clenched her jaw, the anger building up in her chest until it blew up. "This is insane!"

How could they be doing this? How could she be in this situation? Sheva had never felt so vulnerable during a mission. She felt naked to the constant threat that stood in the shadows of this impoverished village. At any moment they could be killed, just like Alpha team, or they could become victims to the animal like brutality of the villagers. Visions of a machete being pushed through her stomach, a pipe wrapped in barbwire being slammed against her head, a glass bottle exploding against her chest. It sent shivers down her spine. Inside her there was fear wrapped delicately in anger. It was deep, penetrating every fiber of her. This was real, and her mind knew, her heart knew, her body knew. She could be easily killed. Chris could be easily killed, and she then she would be all alone. Alone in a deadly town, with no one to watch her back. The possibility of dying was very high, and it was this that made Sheva the most nervous.

It was Chris's gruff voice that pulled Sheva from her thoughts. He spoke as he shut the Hummer door, walking forward a few feet to stand next to her. "Ever get the feeling you're expendable."

Sheva turned to Chris, her eyes filled with worry. She wanted to say _'never'_, but then she would be lying.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Wow. Another heavy chapter, but it was enjoyable I hope? Sorry for the long update, my laptop got a virus and I had to get it repaired, and on top of that I've been doing a bunch of things for college this fall, and on top of THAT I caught a slight case of Writer's Block for about a week and since I self Beta this story, it takes a bit longer. Sorry for any mistakes I did not catch, I hope it didn't ruin your experience too much._

_Now it's time to get to work on the next chapter! See you then!_


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